My dream theatre

I had a brand new dream this week, unlike almost any other I’ve had. So you have to hear about it unfortunately.

I was playing for Manchester United. Most of my dreams start off with some kind of highlight of me scoring some brilliant goal to win the World Cup or something, but that’s from the view of someone watching.

This time I was actually me, first person view in the Old Trafford dressing room. Only it wasn’t the actual dressing room, more like my sixth form common room.

As I walked out I could see Jess and a couple of friends sat up in the stands, and I spoke to them for a little bit despite everyone cheering.

After that I was sauntering around smirking at people before kick off, which surprised me because the last and only other dream of this type involved me playing absolutely awfully at the Nou Camp.

Like really bad, I was at my usual standard playing for Barcelona, who were all stupidly amazing.

But for some reason I was brilliant this time. I think we were playing City and I was up front, obviously.

Then I’m sure I had a full 90 minute dream of the whole match. It was really weird, and then of course I scored twice and we won hooray.

I was sort of Berbatov levels of languid, but somehow Ronaldo fast. No idea who the other players were, whether they were friends or actual other players who knows.

Not sure why I bothered writing this down, but I tend to forget most of my dreams. I’ve been up an hour and already forgot the one I had last night. Shame, I remember it being good as well.

I’ll try and get them down when I can, be good to have a reminder of them if nothing else.